ex_ajokerca
in
becum
he's gone
Title: He's Gone
Pairing: Corey/Mick, James/Mick
Rating: PG(?)
Summary: All Mick needed was patience and all Corey needed was one wrong move.
Notes: Based off a piece of the song "Broken Heart (Thirteen Valleys)" by Big Country
Word Count: 759
Corey walked through the flowers, finding the dull beauty and sickly sweet fragments more of a punishment then paradise, with a glare darkening his features and a biting retort for anyone that decided to cross him. For him, unlike what he was told, the place was a hell. The peace, the silence, the fact that he no longer had to fight anymore was worse than if he was running through the desert with a sword in his hand. It hit him louder than the war cries and the horses screaming as they were hit in the on fire and sitting out from a fight was jittering him worse than when his father handed him straight over to the generals for training.
No, death for Corey was worse than anything he could have ever imagined.
The things he had and he honestly have everything, where shit. It was nothing compared to the burning he felt in his chest, in his heart and soul. He wanted his lover, he wanted Mick in his arms and then he would be ok with the freedom he was given within the blink of an eye. Maybe then he would stop wondering how he had missed the man that plunged his weapon straight through his body. Maybe he could discover how he stepped wrong in just the right moment for the enemy. Maybe then, only maybe, he would be at peace.
He could stop feeling guilty that he left Mick alone. With Mick in his arms and himself at peace, he wouldn’t have to worry that Mick would have only dreams and memories to live on. He wouldn’t have the knowledge that he had failed his lover and himself.
But until then? Until then, he would wander thirteen valleys with his soul crying out.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Sir.” Mick’s hands came to a rest as he looked at the dust covered man before him, “Sir, I must talk to you and the mistress of the house.” The man shifted, a saddened and wary look seeped from his eyes, as if he waited for Mick to come down on him for interrupting his peace.
He stood and nodded, “Mistress Taylor is in her knitting room, but shalln’t you wait? I can have the cook fix you something to eat and a maid to draw you a bath. You look as if the wicked ones themselves have chased you and from the dust shedding, I propose it was a hard and long journey.”
“Aye, Master Morris. You are too kind but I can’t wait nor stay. I was sent only to give you far warn and return to the fields.” The man dug something from his leather purse and handed Mick a letter. It bore the Taylor’s seal and his name on the other side in a script he had pretty much memorized. “I must speak to you and Mistress Taylor, it is too important to wait any longer.”
But Mick knew what the letter said, he didn’t need a horn blown or a man that was grief stricken to repeat what the letter probably started with only in third person. “Have a maid call for her.” He muttered and curled his fingers into the paper. Mick turned around and walked, faster and faster until he broke into a run and was able to disappear into the high walls of the Labyrinth. His feet pounded on the dry ground as he made his way to the center of the maze.
“He’s gone.” Breathless; the letter dropped from his hand and he raised it to his mouth, shoulders shaking as emotion ran over him. “Corey’s gone. He’s dead.” The words came out soft, jumpy, clipped - and the man he was talking to turned around with a smile. It was then that Mick allowed his hand to fall and show his own smile, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Killed in battle.”
“I told you it would take patience.”
“James,” Mick drawled, “I’ve been trying to get the man out of my life since we were forced together and that was four years ago.”
“Four years that should have been mine and mine alone.” Mick was pulled into James’ arms, smiling as he realized how happy he was to have his life back. He knew he should have been sad, his husband was dead but he was done playing pretend. He had promised himself to James when he was ten years old and now? Now, it was eight years later and he still loved James, if not more than before.
Thirteen valleys he has wandered for her love
For he thinks he is the one she dreams of
But her bed was made elsewhere
From the first day she got there
Now he wanders thirteen valleys crying out
Pairing: Corey/Mick, James/Mick
Rating: PG(?)
Summary: All Mick needed was patience and all Corey needed was one wrong move.
Notes: Based off a piece of the song "Broken Heart (Thirteen Valleys)" by Big Country
Word Count: 759
Corey walked through the flowers, finding the dull beauty and sickly sweet fragments more of a punishment then paradise, with a glare darkening his features and a biting retort for anyone that decided to cross him. For him, unlike what he was told, the place was a hell. The peace, the silence, the fact that he no longer had to fight anymore was worse than if he was running through the desert with a sword in his hand. It hit him louder than the war cries and the horses screaming as they were hit in the on fire and sitting out from a fight was jittering him worse than when his father handed him straight over to the generals for training.
No, death for Corey was worse than anything he could have ever imagined.
The things he had and he honestly have everything, where shit. It was nothing compared to the burning he felt in his chest, in his heart and soul. He wanted his lover, he wanted Mick in his arms and then he would be ok with the freedom he was given within the blink of an eye. Maybe then he would stop wondering how he had missed the man that plunged his weapon straight through his body. Maybe he could discover how he stepped wrong in just the right moment for the enemy. Maybe then, only maybe, he would be at peace.
He could stop feeling guilty that he left Mick alone. With Mick in his arms and himself at peace, he wouldn’t have to worry that Mick would have only dreams and memories to live on. He wouldn’t have the knowledge that he had failed his lover and himself.
But until then? Until then, he would wander thirteen valleys with his soul crying out.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Sir.” Mick’s hands came to a rest as he looked at the dust covered man before him, “Sir, I must talk to you and the mistress of the house.” The man shifted, a saddened and wary look seeped from his eyes, as if he waited for Mick to come down on him for interrupting his peace.
He stood and nodded, “Mistress Taylor is in her knitting room, but shalln’t you wait? I can have the cook fix you something to eat and a maid to draw you a bath. You look as if the wicked ones themselves have chased you and from the dust shedding, I propose it was a hard and long journey.”
“Aye, Master Morris. You are too kind but I can’t wait nor stay. I was sent only to give you far warn and return to the fields.” The man dug something from his leather purse and handed Mick a letter. It bore the Taylor’s seal and his name on the other side in a script he had pretty much memorized. “I must speak to you and Mistress Taylor, it is too important to wait any longer.”
But Mick knew what the letter said, he didn’t need a horn blown or a man that was grief stricken to repeat what the letter probably started with only in third person. “Have a maid call for her.” He muttered and curled his fingers into the paper. Mick turned around and walked, faster and faster until he broke into a run and was able to disappear into the high walls of the Labyrinth. His feet pounded on the dry ground as he made his way to the center of the maze.
“He’s gone.” Breathless; the letter dropped from his hand and he raised it to his mouth, shoulders shaking as emotion ran over him. “Corey’s gone. He’s dead.” The words came out soft, jumpy, clipped - and the man he was talking to turned around with a smile. It was then that Mick allowed his hand to fall and show his own smile, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Killed in battle.”
“I told you it would take patience.”
“James,” Mick drawled, “I’ve been trying to get the man out of my life since we were forced together and that was four years ago.”
“Four years that should have been mine and mine alone.” Mick was pulled into James’ arms, smiling as he realized how happy he was to have his life back. He knew he should have been sad, his husband was dead but he was done playing pretend. He had promised himself to James when he was ten years old and now? Now, it was eight years later and he still loved James, if not more than before.
Thirteen valleys he has wandered for her love
For he thinks he is the one she dreams of
But her bed was made elsewhere
From the first day she got there
Now he wanders thirteen valleys crying out